


All Good Things Must End

by Rhino (RhinoMouse)



Series: The Once and Future Alien [3]
Category: Merlin (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: A tiny bit of fluff, Angst, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, I promise, Isle of the Blessed, It Gets Better in the Next One, Magical Fighting, Morgana is a BAMF, Multi, Ten Years Later, The Cup of Life is a Horrible, Time Jump, War, lots of fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhinoMouse/pseuds/Rhino
Summary: Camelot is at peace and prospering under it's rulers. The future is bright as they move forward but enemies are circling them within and without. Treachery is afoot and when divided fractures begin. Kara fears the change she can feel coming as the longest period of safety she's had continues. When the storm comes though, many are lost.





	1. The Night Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> ...I am so sorry. It gets better.

Ten Years Later

Morgana ran her quill across the page as she tried to connect the dreams that had been plaguing her more and more as the years passed. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she groaned. “Merlin, how’s the spell crafting going?” 

From the corner of the warlock's tower Merlin grunted. 

She rolled her eyes as she dried the ink on the page with a simple thought. Dropping the book into a pile of them she grabbed one of her math books. “Do you have any calculations you need me to work on, or should I work on my wards?” 

“Why are you so good at enchantments and runic overlays?” Merlin grumbled from where he was poking at a frog now that she looked at him, his staff leaning against the wall. “If you could calculate the rate of regeneration of your wife that would be helpful.” 

“I did that six years ago after the incident with Odin,” she snapped back. “It’s in the green ledger.” 

Merlin looked up, blinking in surprise. “I forgot.” Waving his hand, the appropriate ledger came zooming into it. “If you could work on the magical output needed to recreate a stable solar flare that’d be useful.” 

“Huh…” She cocked her head to the side. “That ridiculous beard didn’t take away all your common sense.” 

He gave her his best attempt at a glare. “My beard is fabulous and I keep it well groomed. Arthur hasn’t insulted it once. Not to mention I’ve had it for six years.” 

“Yeah, after Gwen made you shave off the last one.” She silently summoned the appropriate books they’d written on the topic of magic involving sunlight. “Tell Arthur I want Mordred back and it’s not fair how he’s stolen him.” 

“He’s my apprentice!” Merlin protest weakly while flipping through the green ledger. “If he won’t give him back to me why would d he give him back to you?” 

Morgan began scratching out calculations. “Because he’s my named heir and he’s magical. Why that boy had to go and decide to become a knight I’ll never know.” 

“Not my fault.” Merlin said while making a sound of success in the back of his throat and quickly scribbling information down across his loose parchment. 

Morgana reached out and scratched Cavell II behind the ears. He was laid out over her feet. “Cavell is getting old...are you sure an aging spell used on a dog is a misuse of our powers?” 

“Yes I’m sure.” Merlin said from where he was bent over his work, his quill scratching away. “We’re not gods. Life and death are not ours to control. And don’t forget Alex.” 

Morgana winced at the reminder of Kara’s horse that had died year before. Her wife had been inconsolable for weeks, and she still cried if the animal was brought up. “Fair enough.”

They fell back into companionable silence as they worked on their magic. Morgana was just wishing she could throttle the equations in front of her for not working when the door opened. Glancing over she saw Gwen stepping inside with Sefa on her heels holding a large tray of tea and fruit. “Gwen?” 

Merlin perked up from where he was apparently back to poking the frog. “Gwen! What brings you here this time of day?” 

“Pulling Camelot’s two resident magicals out of your books so you can eat something.” Gwen shook her head fondly. 

Sefa curtsied while setting out the tea and fruits on one of the tables in the room. 

Morgana let out a sigh of defeat and stood. Stretching she grimaced as her back cracked. Stepping over, she sat down in one of the comfy chairs and accepted her cup of tea. “So what’s the real reason you’re here Gwen?” 

She smirked amused as Merlin kissed Gwen’s cheek before sitting down at the table as well. 

“There’s a raven from Nemeth.” Gwen sat with all the grace of the queen she was. “Queen Mithian requests that one of you two go to her court as a symbol of friendship and as a precaution in case Odin means to invade again.” 

Morgana grimaced as she sipped her tea. “Which means we’ll be needed at court this afternoon, then.” 

“Exactly.” Gwen smiled from behind her tea cup. “Also I believe it would be best if you go with Aithusa for this one, Morgana.” 

Morgana raised a brow at that. “Not that I’m opposed, but why me?” 

“Cendred has been increasing his fortifications along the border as you both know. Keeping Merlin or yourself in Camelot for magical protection is necessary. With the threat either yourself or Arthur must stay here. Arthur is the more feared military leader of the two of you. Kara is, well, Kara and her presence would guarantee our safety. If you go, Aithusa will want to go, and what better show of power is there than a high priestess with a dragon?” 

“Fair.” Morgana allowed. “I’ll go. It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to ride Aithusa anywhere and she’d been getting bored helping the knights train against magical creatures.” 

Merlin huffed playfully. “I turn out to be the dragon lord and you’re the one the dragon choses. It’s not fair, I still say you enchanted her somehow.” 

“She just has good taste.” Morgana said examining her nails with a proud smirk. “And I come with a Kryptonian that likes to play with her.” 

Merlin stuck his tongue out at her. He felt thoughtful as he munched on a slice of pear. “I got a letter from Lancelot last night.” 

“How’s he doing?” Gwen asked while Morgana perked up curiously at the mention of the knight. 

“He’s engaged.” Merlin smiled brightly. “Still hasn’t told me her name. But says she’s beautiful, long blond hair, is good with a sword and can do some small enhancements. He sounds happy.” 

Gwen gave Morgana sharp look. “I was surprised when he asked for Lord Lac’s title after Arthur’s and my wedding.” 

Merlin squirmed. “He just needed space.” He ran a finger along the metal cuff he wore as symbol of his status - bonded to both Arthur and Gwen - since he could not wear a ring like they did. “He didn’t take… He loved you once Gwen, it hurt him.” 

“I know.” She sighed, setting down her tea slowly. “I still wish you’d told us that you’d made that offer to him, Morgana. Arthur was heartbroken to lose him.” 

“Arthur was clueless to the fact his best knight was in love with his wife. Did you want to be the one to tell him why Lancelot really was doing it?” Morgana looked at her without shame. “It was the kindest option.” Standing, she straightened her skirts. “For now I’m going to go see my wife before I’m required in the council chamber.” 

////

Kara smiled as she felt Morgana kiss the crown of her head. “What are you doing here? I thought you, and I quote, ‘needed to work on some enchantments please don’t interrupt me’.” She grinned up over her shoulder at her mate. 

“Well, I found out that I’ll be needed in the council chambers this afternoon, which means I’ll be missing training. So, thought I’d get my dose of you now instead. What do you think?” 

Kara swallowed, staring at her wife as she sat on her lap. “How long do we have?” 

“Two hours, better make them count.” Morgana leaned in and nipped at her ear. “You wouldn’t want to fail your queen.” 

///

They were laying the warmth that came after being with each other so intimately when Morgana spoke softly. “You look the same as the day I met you.” 

Kara kissed her forehead. “You’re more beautiful with every day. It shouldn’t be possible but you are. Is it some sort of magic?” She playfully furrowed her brows. “Because it’s completely unfair.” 

“You’re an idiot.” Morgana said fondly while curling her fingers against Kara’s bare hip. “I expect you to look out for Mordred in training since Arthur and I won’t be there this afternoon. 

“Of course.” Kara nuzzled against her lightly. “He’s really been coming into his own with the knights you know. Especially after the...issue with Gwen.” 

Morgana gently ran her finger along Kara’s clavicle. “If she and Arthur don’t produce an heir Mordred will succeed us. The kingdom will persist. The old council members can choke on their beards if they push for Arthur to find a way to get rid of Gwen.” 

“I know.” Kara comforted quickly. She knew how painful the lack of child was for Gwen and her mates. Not to mention how furious it made Morgana when it was used to speak against her friend. “I just meant to say that he is earning the respect of the others. Already he can lead the men.” 

Morgana sighed closing her eyes. “I’m sorry for getting upset.” 

“I understand.” Kara pushed some of Morgana’s hair behind her ear. “It’s been a topic that has been harped on often. Almost as often as your unmarried status.” She grinned playfully. “Tell me, how is being an unwed monarch treating you?” 

Morgana erupted into giggles. “Far more passionate, and with a far warmer bed than any of those courtiers have ever known.” 

////

Mordred grunted from the pressure of it as he locked blades with Sir. Percival. He knew his magic could easily break the lock of blades, but Arthur had banned the use of magic during training without the presence of Morgana or Merlin. Gritting his teeth, he stepped in while dropping his sword trying to force Percival’s to the side. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he slammed his elbow into the man’s gut with all of his strength. It barely made the large man wheeze. And it left him open for Percival’s attack. 

He hit the ground with a thud. Laying on the ground he could feel his limbs shaking with effort. He was unsure he could get himself off the ground in his mail like this. Staring up at the sky he contemplated where he’d gone wrong…. When he accepted a contest of strength with a man so much larger than himself, definitely. 

“Not bad kid, you’re getting better.” Percival grinned down at him while offering his hand. 

Reaching up, Mordred accepted the hand and let himself be pulled up. “I still can’t beat you.” 

“Only when you can’t use magic.” Percival shrugged. “You’re a formidable warrior even without it though.” 

“Not as good as Arthur.” He glared at the ground. 

Percival laughed, the other knights joining in. “No one’s as good as Arthur.” 

“True.” Mordred comforted himself with the fact that not being as good as the Once and Future King wasn’t that bad of a thing, really. Perking up he noticed Laudine walking past the training field. 

Sir. Leon chuckled while dropping his arm around Mordred’s shoulders. “Now what have we here? Don’t let her father see you looking at her like that.” 

Mordred felt his cheeks coloring. “I..it’s not like that.” 

A voice cut off the teasing of the knights. “Oh let him go.” Ser Zorel reached over, fluffing his hair up. “Go on, you need to actually talk to her. Words are important with these things.” She grinned at him.

Still blushing, he shook off Leon’s arm and trotted off towards where Laudine had walked out of sight. Lifting an arm, his nose wrinkled at the smell. Muttering under his breath, a breeze of cool air whooshed down his body to dry his sweat. Nodding, he bit his lip. Another spell and he had a handful of daisies. Forcing his shoulders back he set off to find his lady.

////

Arthur broke the seal on his latest letter and opened it curiously. Lancelot hadn’t written him for some time. He smiled, pleasantly surprised by the contents. “Gwen, Lancelot wishes to come to Camelot for the Yule celebration this year. It’ll be good to hear his council on the matter of Cendred. His lands are along the border.” 

“That’s lovely.” Gwen ran a hand along his shoulders. “I’ve missed him. So has Merlin, not that he’ll say so.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Arthur caught Gwen’s hand on his shoulder, covering it with his own as the door opened. 

“Your majesties.” Agravaine bowed slightly as he entered. His uncle had grown grey with the years, though he was still a handsome man. 

“What do you need uncle?” Arthur asked waving the man forward. 

Agravaine stepped further into the room and seemed to consider his words. “I’ve received reports of smugglers in the lower town. If you would allow me to conduct an investigation?” 

“Of course, what do you need for this investigation?” Arthur released Gwen’s hand, reaching for a fresh piece of parchment he could write out whatever it was that was needed. 

“Just permission to form a small unit of the men to search through the lower town for the next week or so.” Agravaine said easily. 

Arthur nodded writing out the needed permission. “I don’t know what I’d do without you uncle.” Signing it, he handed the parchment out. “Good luck.” 

////

Morgana double checked the straps on Aithusa one last time before securing her traveling gear to the saddle as well. Stepping back she kissed the dragon’s nose. Her beautiful pure white dragon, just ten years old and already the size of a cart. “Hey girl, you excited to see Gwaine? I’m sure he’ll sneak you some treats while Mithian isn’t looking.” 

Aithusa chirped excitedly while butting her with her head. Morgan laughed as she felt her feet lift from the ground slightly at the sign of affection. Reaching out, she scratched by the dragon’s ears. “Who’s a good girl? You are, you’re a good girl! We can work on making consonant sounds while we’re there too!” 

The dragon made excited noises before catching sight of her dinner and lunging over to her trough. Snickering, Morgana sighed as she walked over to where she saw Gwen. “Here to see me off?” 

“Kara asked me to delay you till she could get here from her patrol.” Gwen said while hugging her. “But I would have come anyways.” 

Morgana smiled, pulling back. “Not going to chastise me about going in mail and pants?” 

“You’re going as a show of force, and your mail is elegant as mail can be.” Gwen reached out to touch the delicate chain. “Some of my father’s finest work.” 

“He was a good man.” Morgana turned so that they were standing side by side. She laughed as she watched Aithusa practically inhaling her dinner. 

Gwen seemed to have followed her line of sight. “Do you think she’ll be talking by this time next year?” 

Morgana shrugged. “She’ll talk when she’s ready to talk. But she’s got the vowel sounds down. She’s a fully mature dragon, and full grown too. Language takes years for them, according to that book Merlin found last year.” 

“I’m aware.” Gwen said dryly. “We do have an egg in the vaults from her. Which, by the way, why aren’t we calling it out of it’s shell?” 

“When the hatchling is ready, Aithusa will let us know.” Morgana hummed thoughtfully. “Who’d have thought, raising dragons in Camelot.” 

Gwen’s voice was darkly amused as she replied. “Can you imagine Uther’s face if he saw what’s become of Camelot since his death?” 

There was a moment's pause before they both broke out into hysterical giggles. Morgana hooked her arm through Gwen’s. “Never change.” 

“You either.” Gwen said easily. Shaking her head, she continued. “Though it is strange to hold the title of queen besides you. I always thought I’d still be your servant, not your co-ruler.” 

“Well you may not have been born for it, but you are the best at it of the three of us.” Morgana squeezed her friend’s arm. “Arthur and I are too impulsive sometimes.” 

Gwen let out an amused snicker. “Just a bit.” 

“Keep them out of trouble while I’m gone?” Morgana looked to her friend. “I can feel something in the air. Like a storm waiting to burst the skies. I don’t trust my visions to show us everything, just...something is coming Gwen, and I don’t know what.” 

“I know.” Gwen looked serious. “The balance of power has shifted more and more in our favor. Our enemies will strike soon. But we are strong. We stand together and none can defeat us.” 

Morgana smiled softly. “El Mayahra.” 

////

Gwen swept along the halls with a rustle of her skirts. “Sir. Leon, if I could have a word with you.” 

The man bowed. “Of course your majesty. What do you need?” 

She paused by a window looking over the town and considered her request. “Would you inspect our walls and guards tonight?” 

“Do you believe the men have been shirking their duties?” He asked, his brow furrowing. 

“No, nothing of the sort. We’re all very pleased with your men and how loyally and well they’ve served the realm.” Gwen assured him. “But something...something feels like it’s coming and I would sleep better if you ensured the defences are secure.” 

Sir. Leon nodded. “Of course, your majesty.” 

////

Sefa stoked the fire in Lord Agravaine’s room as he went over his latest letters. She prefered serving Morgana, but the lady was off with that dragon of hers so she was assisting with the other royals until she returned. Straightening, she approached the Lord and curtsied. “My Lord, is there anything else you require?” 

He looked up at her with his kind smile. “I’m fine, you may leave.” 

“Of course My Lord.” She curtsied again only pausing on her way back up at the sound of a...caw? 

Looking to the window she saw a raven with a note tied to it’s leg. She cocked her head to the side, why would a magic user be contacting the Lord uncle? Sefa couldn’t help it as she spoke unconsciously. “I wasn’t aware you were friends with any druids my lord.” 

Agravaine laughed while standing and carefully untying the note from the bird’s leg. “Yes, it isn’t something many people know.” Stepping closer to her he smiled. “You were born a druid weren’t you?” 

“I was, my Lord.” Sefa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She wasn’t sure what it was but she felt unsafe. Turning, she stepped towards the door. Maybe there was a draft?

“Just a moment.” His congenial voice halted her. She heard his footsteps approaching. “You forgot something.” 

Frowning she looked over her shoulder. “Forgot something?” 

He was closer than she’d expected, his face still warm and friendly. And then the breath rushed out of her body in a sudden ‘huh’. Sefa’s eyes widened as she felt the pain in her side. Looking to his still-smiling face she felt herself mumble, “Wha?” And then everything went black. 

////

Arthur was not ignoring his duties while throwing Cavell’s ball for him down the corridors. Well, unless someone who was brave enough to tell him he was ignoring his duties found him, he wasn’t. Pulling his arm back, he chucked the ball down the corridor and watched as his dog took off after it. 

He clapped his hands summoning Cavell II back when the warning bells of Camelot rang out into the night. Arthur pivoted and took off down the halls for the throne room. News would be brought there first. He rushed past the guards, running to their posts as required when the warning bells rang. Throwing open the doors to the throne room, he charged in and paused in shock at what he saw. 

Gwen was sitting on the throne already, his advisors already there. Several of the knights were in attendance, and standing in the center of the room, muddy and disheveled, was Lancelot. “Lancelot.” He breathed before taking three steps forward and embracing the man he cared for like a brother. “What are you doing here?” 

“Your majesty.” He bowed after Arthur released him. “I came as quickly as I could.” 

Arthur frowned taking in the serious expression on the man’s face. “What’s happened?” 

“Cendred marches on Camelot in force.” Lancelot proclaimed. “My scouts spotted the army. My lands will be overwhelmed in a matter of a day. I had to warn you and request aid for my territory.”

“Of course.” Arthur led Lancelot forward as he moved towards his throne. “What do you know?” 

Lancelot swallowed. “My scout came to report the torches, hundreds of torches, moving towards the border. I sent out two groups of scouts out to see what was happening and ordered the peasants into the castle and my forces mustered. Only one of the scouts came back and he was badly injured. They have a powerful mage with them, if his estimate is correct they’ll outnumber Camelot’s full forces two to one.” 

Gwen spoke from her throne. “Did he see if they had seige weapons?” 

“No.” Lancelot shook his head. “It was dark and they were found by the patrols of the army before they got close. But the entire party was wiped out save for the youngest and fastest runner of the group.” 

Merlin came jogging into the room from one of the servant passage ways. “I’ve raised the magical defences of the city.” He gave Lancelot a nod. 

Arthur realized Lancelot must have gone to Merlin first. He sometimes forgot that Lancelot had been Merlin’s friend before he’d been his. But those were thoughts for another time. “We’ll have to fight them in the field. A force of that size would decimate our farmable land on their way to Camelot.” 

“But they out number us.” Sir. Kay said from where he was standing with his arms crossed. “Would it not be better to wait and let them break against Camelot’s walls? We can easily defend ourselves here.” 

Gwen shook her head. “The loss of land and civilian life would be too great. I agree with my husband. Better to stop their march before they reach the interior of our lands.” 

Arthur rested his hand on his sword hilt. “I can take half our army to Lac castle with Lancelot. I’ll take Merlin and Kara with me. The rest of our forces can remain here and hold the capitol. If we can fight through to the castle we can win. Our force may be small but it takes greater numbers than you’ve described to overwhelm a well equipped and defended castle. You have enough food stores for a siege?” 

“For a few months, but the harvest comes soon and our stores aren’t as full as they should be.” Lancelot said. 

“And if the castle is taken before you can arrive and assist its defence?” Agravaine asked sharply. 

Arthur gripped the handle of his sword. “Then we fall back through the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

“Nothing good comes from that valley.” Merlin said, rubbing at his beard. “Perhaps falling back to Edgewood’s keep?” 

“The men wouldn’t fit.” Gwen cut in. “Even half our army would be too much for a small keep. Though you should send a detachment to bolster the keep if you are forced to retreat.” 

Arthur nodded. “That’s wise. Can we afford to summon Morgana back?” 

“No.” Merlin grimaced. “We cannot afford to fight a war on two sides if Odin takes advantage of Cendred’s forces to invade as well. She protects our backs and our allies. If we do become besieged our people will need to flee to Nemeth and Lord Godwyn’s land. We’ll need to get supplies from our allies as well. Those routes can’t be guaranteed without a show of force, and Morgana is that force.” 

Arthur looked to Gwen and saw her nod. “Then I will lead our army to Lac castle. Merlin will come with me as a magical defence. We leave in two bells.” 

////

Mordred felt sick to his stomach as he rode behind Arthur towards the approaching army. He’d gone on quests but never fought in a pitched battle before. His heart was thudding in his chest. Tipping his head up he forced pride and confidence to rise. This was Camelot, and he was riding with the Once and Future King, Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, and a fae; not to mention the best army in the region, possibly the world. 

“It’s going to be alright.” Kara brought her horse even with his, her face was serious but her eyes were kind. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“I can protect myself.” He said quickly. 

She gave him a sad look. “I know you can. But I promised Morgana I would look out for you. Which, not that you need it, but in battle anything can happen. So if bad luck happens I’ll be there. You’ve got your magic and your sword but you’re still just a kid. Not that because you’re a kid...boy...young man doesn’t mean you can’t fight. But just..stay safe ok?” 

He stared at her before reaching out wrapping his fingers around her gauntlet. “We’re going to win.” 

“I know.” She bit her lip. “It’s the price of winning that I fear.” 

////

Morgana leaned her head back, enjoying the cold air flying past her as they flew through the night sky. It was a clear night, the sky stretching out in a tapestry of the heavens. The chill bit through her armor and into her skin, though a simple warming spell had solved that. She closed her eyes and dreamed. 

Her visions had been becoming blurrier with the years, now she rarely saw far. It was a relief and a worry, her guess was that her power didn’t work when the threats weren’t as large. But then, that was too easy. Maybe the gift was leaving her? Which would be...complicated. That couldn’t be it though because she still dreamed. 

She dreamed of a life in a strange world, with tall shining buildings, horseless carriages, and bright lights. The girl she seemed to be in those dreams was smart and painfully lonely. Morgana wasn’t foolish enough to not realize who’s life she was likely seeing. The implications of seeing that was...not worth considering. 

The gentle thudding of Aithusa’s wings as they rose and fell was familiar and comforting. Opening her eyes, she saw the light of the castle of Nemeth rising up from the dark ground. Leaning forward she caught hold of the spikes along Aithusa’s back. “Land in the courtyard below.” 

Aithusa chirped and then they began to glide in a great circle round the castle, spiraling downwards for the ground. Finally she landed with a thud shaking the courtyard. 

Morgana grunted with the force of stopping before scratching along Aithusa’s neck. “Good job girl.” Looking around the courtyard she spotted the carefully set out tent in Pendragon colors. Snorting, she slipped from the saddle and walked around to Aithusa’s face. She ignored the guard rushing to inform the relevant people to her arrival. “Come on girl, you deserve a rest for that.” 

They made their way to the tent and Morgana smiled widely when she saw the roast boar on a spit next to a nest of straw and pillows and a large water trough. “Looks like Gwaine got this ready for you.” Scratching under her chin she sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning darling.” 

Aithusa bumped her gently with her snout before heading for the boar, a line of drool dripping from her mouth. 

Morgana stepped out of the tent and spotted a very confused looking squire. “You there, see to it that my saddle bags are sent to my room. Also the saddle will need to be cleaned.” 

The boy squeaked before staring at the tent in horror. She hid her grin and headed for the entrance to the castle. Aithusa wouldn’t hurt him and it amused her to watch the servants try to figure out how to approach a dragon. That and she was exhausted and had no interest in doing the labor herself if she could help it. Reaching the entrance, she nodded as the door was opened for her. The walls inside this castle were all plastered white, it left the interior cleaner, brighter, and generally more homey. She paused, seeing a highly ranked servant approaching her at a panicked trot. 

“Your majesty!” He bowed, his bald head shining in the light as he half stumbled over himself. “My apologies you weren’t welcomed immediately. We weren’t expecting you for hours yet.” 

She waved off his apologies. “We had a favorable wind that made our journey quicker.” 

Raising his head he still seemed overly troubled. She had to resist rolling her eyes. The servants of Camelot hadn’t been this deferential since Uther. The man seemed to control himself as he spoke. “If you would follow me, the Queen request you be brought to her immediately upon your arrival.” 

“Of course.” She fell into step with him easily as he led her through the halls. “If you would have a plate of some dinner sent once we arrive. I’m famished after the flight.” 

“Anything you wish your majesty.” 

Morgana rolled her eyes freely seeing as he wasn’t looking at her. “Just some bread, cheese and maybe some fruit would be more than sufficient.” 

They were silent the rest of the way to the royal wing. The man knocked the ornate door of the royal chambers before opening them. Morgana stepped round him and caught the flying toddler. 

“Mogana!” The boy squealed. 

She hugged her godson tightly. “How is my little prince?” 

“Good!” He giggled as she kissed his cheeks. 

“Garath! What have we said about tackling people?” The tired and resigned voice of Mithian came from further in the room. 

Garath pouted turning to look at his mother. “But it’s Mogana!” 

Mithian just raised her brows in an impressively guilt inducing look known to all mothers. Morgana felt herself smirking at the plight of the bow. She kissed his soft curly dark hair. “You better answer her question little prince.” 

“...Not ta tackle.” The boy said while screwing his eyes up big and watery. It seemed to have little affect on his mother. 

“Exactly. Now come here, you should be asleep.” Mithian placed a hand on her hip. 

Garath clutched tightly to Morgana. “But Mogana just gotted here!” 

Morgana interceded before a tantrum erupted. “How about I carry you back to bed, little prince?” 

He considered her before nodding seriously. “Ok.” 

She cradled him to her as she walked towards the children’s room. Over her shoulder she gave Mithian a wink. Taking the door between the royal chambers and the children’s rooms next door she was unsurprised to find Gwaine attempting to calm Gareth's twin, Gaheris. Morgana enjoyed his look of exhaustion as he spoke, “I see you’ve brought my little runaway.” 

“Parenthood suits you.” She quipped before pressing another kiss to Gareth’s head before passing him over to his father. 

Gwaine just glared at her while helping his now drooping son into the bed with his brother, as the boys still insisted on sharing. “Just wait, your day will come.” 

Morgana shook her head while stepping backwards. “You know that that is an impossibility for my wife and I.” She ignored his look of disbelief and left him to the soothing of his sons. Stepping back into the private royal quarters she headed to the small table by the fire and sat down across from Mithian. “So, you summoned me.” 

“Yes.” Mithian looked at her with a frown. “There were rumors of a force on our border with Odin. We sent a scouting party two days ago and they haven’t returned.” 

Morgana let out a groan while accepting a chalice of wine and the plate of food she’d requested on her way to the room. “So Odin is up to something again.” 

“Likely.” Mithian waved for her own glass of wine. “Gwaine will lead a patrolling force to the border personally tomorrow. We were hoping you’d be willing to accompany him.” 

“Of course.” Morgana smiled before taking a long drink and taking a bite of cheese. 

Mithian rested a hand on her stomach. “It’s been a stressful month.” 

“So you’re giving me another godchild then?” Morgana was overjoyed at the news. Her friends had been busy producing heirs. Their eldest named for Mithian’s father, Rodor, was already six years. 

Her friend took a drink from her chalice. “We’re hoping for a girl this time. But well, we’ve been blessed.” 

“You have, it’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.” Morgana chewed thoughtfully. “Not since the twins’ name day.”

“Gareth has missed you. Did his drawings reach you?” Mithian asked. 

She smiled at the reminder of the scribbled on parchment displayed on her walls. “Of course. Gaheris still driving the cook mad?” 

“Naturally, Gwaine says he’ll be a baker if we let him.” Mithian looked to the fire. “I wish he could be a baker and never have to lift a sword.” 

“So what did I miss?” Gwaine asked before slumping into the free chair and stealing his wife’s chalice of wine. 

Morgana’s eyes glowed gold with magic turning his wine into vinegar. He spluttered as soon as it touched his lips. “Well it seems I’m accompanying you along the border tomorrow.”

Grabbing Morgana’s chalice he took a long drink from it while practically daring her to repeat her trick. Setting it down with a cocky smirk he ran a hand through his hair. “Good. I have to say I was expecting it to be Merlin coming. But a dragon flying up and down the border will be useful. It’ll make our job a hell of a lot easier.” 

“True, we’ve had rising tensions with Cendred. It didn’t seem wise to have Merlin leave, as he’s tied into the protective enchantments of Camelot more than I am.” She scoffed under her breath, “Even if I designed them.” 

Gwaine chuckled. “All the work but none of the credit.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. 

Mithian swatted at him as he tried to put his feet on the table. He obediently put them down. She shook her head at him before speaking. “What’s new from Camelot?” 

////

Gwen was drawn and taunt as she stared out over the parapets of the castle, the early light of dawn illuminating the fields. “How did this happen?” 

“Well...” 

“I don’t have time for wordplay Gaius. Explain to me how our army left to stop Cendred’s forces not three hours ago, and yet a detachment of that army is now sitting outside our walls?” She grit her teeth, staring at the banners of the enemy nation. 

Gaius shuffled slightly closer. “I’m not sure, though it is a small party. Only two hundred men at most. If they traveled through the Valley of the Fallen Kings they could have missed Camelot’s army.” 

“Which means if our army is forced to retreat they’ll be surrounded on both sides.” Gwen felt the weight of her crown on her head in that moment. “This could also be a trap meant to draw our forces out of the castle meaning we cannot risk riding out to face them to remove the threat.” 

“Indeed, it would be foolish if it was not a trap.” Gaius said slowly. “We don’t know how large of a force may have traveled through the valley. If Camelot falls it won’t matter if Arthur is victorious on the field or not.” 

Gwen felt her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself not to show her emotions. She didn’t glance at Sir.Kay, she knew he was there. “Prepare the walls for a siege. I want a detachment of knights ready to ride out our gates to crash upon our enemy at the first sight of our army returning. Have my brother Sir. Elyan lead them. Till then we wait.” 

“Shall we heat hot oil as well?” The man asked stiffly. 

She stared at the enemy banners. “Yes.” Gritting her teeth she wished one of the others was here, and could tell her what was best in this situation. She wasn’t the warrior or the leader in times of battle. But in this moment it was what she needed to be. “Use the back gate, send a small party of scouts. I want to know for sure that they are awaiting to trap us. And if so what that trap is.” 

“I’ll see to it your majesty.” Sir. Kay bowed before walking off with heavy footsteps. 

“Gaius, send word to Morgana. She needs to know the situation. By this point she’ll know if she should remain where she is or return better than we do.” Gwen turned away from the wall. “After you’ve done so turn the great hall into your infirmary. I fear we will need the space.” 

////

Gwaine swung up into the saddle and looked over his knights. He looked around at the forest green cloaks of Nemeth. It had been odd at first, but he’d come to enjoy the green. Certainly gave bandits a harder time trying to shoot him with arrows. The red was flashy looking but it did tend to draw the eye because of that. He grinned at Morgana who’d mounted up on a borrowed horse. “You sure you want to ride with us plebeians?” 

“And miss your charming personality? Never.” Morgana teased while wheeling her horse around. 

He snorted before looking up to see Mithian at the window watching them prepare to ride out. Gwaine winked up at his wife. Turning his horse he kicked its flanks lightly. “Head out.” The horses hooves clacked along the stones as they rode out through the gates and onto the dirt road. 

“The green suits you.” Morgana said with a pointed look to his cloak. 

Gwaine flicked his hair back and playfully preened. “Brings out my eyes.” 

She laughed. Shaking her head in amusement, she gave a quick look up to where the shining white dragon was circling far above them. 

“How’s Zorel?” He wiggled his brows. He hadn’t realized the extent of the knight and the queen’s relationship till he’d married Mithian and she’d made an offhand comment about it. It was fairly ridiculous he hadn’t noticed. 

Morgana’s face softened, a bright smile lighting it up. “She’s well. We’ve been discussing the future of the court recently.” She gave a pointed dart of the eyes towards the knights riding within ear shot. “Some of Camelot’s laws are truly ancient and need to be rewritten for the good of the kingdom. The marriage laws particularly could use some...polishing.” 

“Really?” He looked at her surprised. “How did you get his royal Queenliness to go for that?” 

“Arthur is more amenable to it than you’d suspect.” She said with a knowing smirk. 

Gwaine gave a thoughtful hum as he considered the fact that Arthur was in an odd sort of arrangement with Merlin. Not that he knew much about it, except Merlin had said he was happy and to butt out. “Well good for him. Wouldn’t want his head getting too big.” 

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” Morgana let her reigns out, allowing her mount speed up. 

Snickering he waved to his party of knights, encouraging them to keep up with the queen. 

////

Sir. Leon walked as quickly as he could without causing alarm as he headed towards the Lord Agravaine’s quarters. He needed the man’s soldiers that had been assigned to him for the smuggling issue. Considering the emergency he was sure the Lord would forgive him for bursting into his chambers. His hand fell to his sword hilt instantly as he looked around the room. 

The fire had died sometime ago, the room chilled, the window open. But that wasn’t why he drew his sword. No, he’d done that because there was a body on the floor. Crouching down, he placed his fingers against the girl’s throat. She was cold and long gone. Looking at the body and the pool of drying blood around her he could see she’d been stabbed in the back. He stood stiffly, and he could see whomever had done this had left long ago. 

As he stood there his mind raced. He knew what it looked like. There were open documents on Agravaine’s desk, letters and papers he would never have left out. The man was always neat and proper. It wasn’t difficult to tell the room hadn’t been ransacked. But murder? What reason was there for Agravaine to have killed the girl? If she had been a traitor surely he would have reported such a thing immediately not to mention the stab to the back spoke volumes. 

He couldn’t accuse the Lord of treason on this alone however. Especially not in a moment like this. But he could look into it, ensure that all was as it was supposed to be. Sheathing his sword he turned and left the room. If Agravaine was a traitor and left a compromising body in his rooms he did not mean to remain in Camelot while it was ruled by the Pendragons. Which meant he would act now. 

Leon’s cape billowed about him as he headed to the entrance to the escape tunnels. If the grate was unlocked he would know. As he walked he pulled his leather gloves on tightly. The force was not large enough outside their walls for a frontal assault or assassination to be the man’s plan. But opening the door to the heart of Camelot? That would be devastating. 

Ahead he saw Sir. Percival. Speeding up, he pulled the man into a corner and spoke softly. “Protect the queen. Do you understand? Don’t leave her side for anything.” 

Percival frowned. “Has something changed?” 

Leon glanced to the sides. “Lord Agravaine is not in his chambers, but the serving girl’s body is. I believe he may have committed the crime. If he has, he is likely a traitor. I’m going to inspect the escape tunnels. If I don’t return close the keep.” 

“I can do that.” Percival’s eyes were narrowed in fury at the thought of a traitor. “Be careful.” 

“I will friend.” Leon clasped his fellow knight’s arm. 

Spinning on his heel he took back off at a quick march for the lower floors. As he entered the dungeons he grabbed a torch off the wall and continued on his way. The air was damp and silent down here, the scent of must and mold thick. Coming around the corner he came to a halt. 

Agravaine looked over from where he was standing besides three knights of Cendred’s, another climbing out of the tunnel. “Ah, Sir. Leon. Excellent timing.” 

“Traitor. Why would you betray Camelot?” Leon dropped his torch, drawing his sword and backing up slightly so that the wall was to his back. 

The man laughed, his smile still wide and congenial. “Because Uther Pendragon took the only two people I ever loved from me. Is it really so strange I should do the same?” He cocked his head to the side looking genuinely curious. 

“Uther is dead.” Leon said tensing, one of the knights was approaching. 

“So simple minded.” Agravaine shook his head. “I must congratulate you on finding me out. But well, you won’t be telling anyone. Kill him.” 

Leon deflected the first strike of the awaiting knight. Moving into the furious clash of blades he realized none of the others were going to join the fight. If they didn’t come all at once he stood a chance of escaping. Grunting he punched the dark haired knight in the face with his leather and metal studded fist. If he could escape he could warn the others. He had to survive this. 

The enemy knight staggered backwards from the force of the blow. Sir. Leon raised his sword and drove it through the man’s chest. He saw the blood pooling around the hilt of his blade. One down. Only the knight didn’t fall down. The man just laughed before raising his own blade and swinging it down. Leon’s eyes widened in horror before his world went dark.

////

Agravaine kicked at the knight of Camelot’s corpse. “Such a loyal lapdog to the throne. A shame, he could have been useful.” Looking to the soldiers of Cendred still climbing out of the tunnel entrance, he frowned. “We don’t have all day.”


	2. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So...it didn't quite feel right to have a long nerdy rant after this chapter so not till next time. Also Arthur gives a speech in this and parts of it are from Roman de Brute. I kinda thought that was fun to quote one of the earlier Arthurian stories. Anyways have fun! Wish I could say I was sorry but I'm really not, I've been building up to this part of the series since the beginning.

Morgana heard the roar of Aithusa overhead before she saw anything herself. It was distant, too far up for Aithusa to swoop down instantly. But Morgana knew as soon as she heard. Reigning her steed in she shouted out, “AMBUSH!” 

“Circle up!” Gwaine ordered not missing a moment wheeling his horse round. 

The horses barely had had a chance to begin to move before yells from the woods rushed out as men in plain leather armor came charging out on both sides. Morgana threw her hand out eyes burning with magic. Three men went flying back only for her to be forced to duck nearly missing a bolt of lightning. 

Yanking the reins she gaped, wide-eyed at the sword holding man staring at her with a cocky grin. She recognized him in that second. It wasn’t a face she’d seen in years, but it was one she’d never forget. Alavarr, leader of the rebel sorcerers that had nearly ruined her and Arthur’s plans. Her eyes widened further. 

“THEY HAVE MAGIC!” Throwing her arm out she gave a sharp cry. “Forbern!” Fire consumed the woods to her right, lighting it into a roaring inferno. She knew she couldn’t hold if for long, but that would have to be enough. Wheeling round she drew her sword. “Gwaine! I’ve got the leader.” She didn’t wait to see his ascent, she just charged towards the man.

////

Arthur laid on his stomach, staring at the pitched army. He glared at Lancelot. “You underestimated their numbers!” He hissed, his eyes squinted in rage. “You underestimated their numbers by a lot!” 

“I didn’t exactly see them for myself.” Lancelot snarked back before looking back to the field. “It’s just like old times.” 

Merlin snorted from where he was, peeking over the ridge at the army camped out around the castle. “It’s been a few years since we’ve faced certain death.” 

Reaching out, Arthur slapped Merlin upside the head. “If you two could take this seriously!” His voice cracked as he attempted to keep his voice down. 

“Right.” Lancelot pushed himself down so that he was fully out of sight. 

Arthur did the same, pulling Merlin down with him. Once the three of them were safely huddled in the small ditch, Arthur spoke. “They’re too confident. It screams trap.”

“It’s always a trap.” Merlin shrugged. “Is it ever not a trap with us?” 

Arthur grit his teeth while Lancelot snickered into his fist. He punched Merlin in the shoulder again. “Look, we need to know how many magicals they have. I haven’t seen any, and we all know Cendred’s forces them into his army. Which means if they’re not here, they have to be somewhere else.” 

“Right.” The other two finally fell serious. Merlin stroked that ridiculous beard he was so proud of. “I could get closer, and hide us with magic. But I’m not sure I can do it without alerting anyone if they have magical barriers up.” 

“You can’t tell if they have barriers up?” Lancelot asked curiously. 

Merlin gave a vague hand gesture. “Some of them I can, but not all of them just stand up, they have to be tripped, and those ones, well, it’s best not to trip them.” He looked at Arthur. “Shouldn’t we send someone else out to do this? You’re our king, and wandering into an enemy camp is just stupid.” 

“I’m not ordering my men to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” Arthur looked at Merlin dead in the eyes. “Can you get us close enough to grab a guard?” 

Merlin’s mouth thinned but he nodded. “I can do that.” 

 

Arthur nearly crashed into Merlin who’d gone stiff as a board. “Merlin?” He reached his hand onto the man’s shoulder. The gentle rebuke for stopping without warning died on his lips as he saw the pale face of his friend and partner. “What’s wrong?” 

Looking over his shoulder he waved Lancelot to look out. They were wearing darker cloaks and sticking to the trees around the camp while searching for a patrol. Focusing back on Merlin, he turned the man so that he was facing him. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

Merlin swallowed. “I can taste the magic.” He choked out, his voice hoarse. 

“Taste it?” Arthur’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “What does that mean?” 

“Blood, so much blood.” He licked his lips nervously. “For this...a dark ritual was used near here. I can taste it in the air. Arthur, something is wrong with these knights. We should retreat back to Camelot.” 

“And leave my people to die?” Arthur asked in disbelief. “I will not. We came to protect them and we will. This army will not stand against us.” 

Merlin shook his head, he looked rather sick. “We need a defensible position, we should make through the Valley of the Fallen Kings.” 

“You hate that place.” Arthur felt his frown deepened further. “We’re not retreating, that would mean leaving Lancelot’s men, my men, to their deaths.” 

Merlin reached out and gripped the sides of Arthur’s face. “We need to leave.” 

Something was wrong, really wrong. Arthur knew down to his bones Merlin was one of bravest most noble idiots he’d ever met. “What type of ritual would do this?” He asked cautiously. 

Merlin grimaced, his face deathly pale still, a nervous energy wafting off him. “Several, but none of them good Arthur. Those that would hang onto this many men? No I can’t...it’s not right. It feels like death, I can taste it.” 

“Ok.” Arthur finally nodded. He reached out, gripping Merlin behind the neck and hauling him in so that their foreheads were resting against one another. “We cannot flee. But we can set a defensive line, put up some defensive logs. It will slow the enemy down if we do have to retrete. But we won’t push through to Castle Lac, at least not for now.” 

Stiffly Merlin nodded against him. “We need to get back, this place isn’t right.” 

Arthur grit his teeth. They needed something to show, not only to encourage the men but they honestly needed the information. He knew to listen when Merlin said something was a bad idea. He usually ignored him, but the listening was important. But he’d never seen Merlin like this before, which meant he was leery of ignoring him this time. Indecision ripped through him as he tried to decide on a course of action. There was a shout and a clang of metal hitting metal. Turning, he shoved Merlin behind him while drawing his sword.

Lancelot was locked into a battle of strength with the patrol they’d been waiting for. His teeth were grit and he was being pushed back by the larger man. He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. “Run!” 

Arthur’s nose flared, as if he would leave Lancelot behind. Charging forward he stabbed his sword straight through the enemy’s eye. He was not expecting the knight to then burst into a cloud of dust. “The hell?” He shared a confused look with Lancelot before they heard a the sound of the alarm being sounded. Grabbing his friend’s shoulder he pulled them back. “We need to go!” 

 

Turning they took off towards Merlin and their army. Merlin didn’t waste time falling into step with them in their dash for safety. “Arthur!” Merlin’s voice was panicked. “Only the dead should burst into dust when stabbed with that sword!” 

Lancelot spoke from where he was running. “I don’t know if you noticed but that man didn’t seem very dead!” 

Arthur was going to reply that the man did turn to dust which was not exactly a great indicator of Merlin being wrong, when a group of enemy soldiers cut off their retreat. Raising his sword he and Lancelot descended down on them while Merlin pivoted to guard their backs, blasting their pursuers with the white light of his staff. 

With a cry of battle he set onto the men, cutting through their badly trained numbers with disdain. Who sent men this poorly trained into battle? With each man he cut down, another puff of dust surrounded him. Spitting out the foul ash that filled his mouth he turned to Lancelot only to watch him being pushed back. The knight’s opponents were bleeding from surely deadly injuries, one even had a knife sticking out of his head, yet still they fought. 

Gripping his sword tightly he hacked into the men Lancelot was fighting. Lancelot kicked one of them towards Arthur. “They won’t die! Why won’t they die!” 

There was a powerful gust of magic blowing their enemies away from them as Merlin skidded between the two of them. “Run! There is only one thing that could cause this, and it’s bad, it’s really bad.” 

Arthur didn’t bother with trying to piece together what was going on. All he needed to know was that he had to get back to his men. The three of them ran full tilt, Merlin occasionally sending blasts of powerful magic behind them. As they careened over the ditch they’d used to hide, Merlin stopped and began chanting frantically in the old language, his eyes burning gold. Then bubbling out of the ground red hot molten rock began to fill it. Panting with the effort, Merlin turned back to them and then swayed. Arthur caught Merlin around the waist and pulled one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulder. 

He sent Lancelot a meaningful look as they moved as fast as they could for Camelot’s army. They should have listened to Merlin sooner. By the gods of the old religion he wished he’d listened to Merlin sooner. It didn’t take long before Merlin was able to run on his own, speeding up their trip. 

Arthur let out a breath of relief at the sight of the red banners and men who weren’t fodder of some horrible nightmare. As soon as they reached the line he began to give orders. “Grab your weapons and prepare to be attacked. Captains form up!” 

Turning to Merlin as he reached the center of the camp, he crossed his arms. “What was that Merlin? And how did you know what it was?” 

Merlin’s hands were twitching at his side. “The cup of life. I don’t know how but they have it. A drop of blood in the cup, and the one who’s blood it is cannot be killed by any mortal blade. Your sword can kill the dead Arthur, if we destroy the bodies so badly they can’t continue to attack we can stop them. But they out number us. So long as the cup of life remains full…” He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. “I can find the cup. It’s brimming with dark magic, it goes against the balance of nature. It has to be near. They wouldn’t have left it in Cendred’s kingdom, the magic would not keep them alive at such a distance.” 

“But?” Arthur could feel a but coming. 

“But Camelot is a magically rich land. If they placed it on our soil their men would survive so long as they remained in our borders.” Merlin bit his lip. 

Arthur looked at his men. Against a foe that would not die, that only he could kill? He was only one man. King or not he could not defeat an army by himself. But if they retreated, they’d leave Camelot ripe for the slaughter as hundreds of the dead slaughtered their way through. “What happens if the cup is emptied?” 

Merlin swallowed. “They’d die, instantly.” 

Well then, there was only one way forward. “Merlin you will find this cup of life and you will empty it. We’ll hold their attention here.” 

“NO! You’ll die! No one can stand against an army of the dead.” He protested hotly. 

“It won’t matter if you can’t empty the cup! We’ll all die anyways. Better to die defending my people than to die a coward trapped watching my country burn. If we do this, Camelot will be saved. That’s what matters Merlin. Not me, but this country.” He slapped his hand down on Merlin’s shoulder. “We just need to keep them distracted long enough for you to empty the cup.” 

Merlin’s shoulders shook before his teeth clenched in determination. “FIne, I’ll put up the best defensive barrier I can around the men before I go, but it won’t hold forever Arthur.” 

“I know.” Arthur hauled him in, kissing him roughly. Their teeth clicked together but Arthur didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were in the open. What mattered was that it was unlikely both he and Merlin would survive this day. “Take care of Guinevere.” 

Merlin let out a choked sound. “You’re not dying you pillock!” Pulling back, his sorcerer closed his eyes and dropped down, resting his hand on the dirt. And then he began to speak in the old language. 

Arthur could feel the magic in the air, and it wasn’t rushed like with the ditch. No, this was purposeful, pulling magic from the earth below. There was a great rumble and Arthur gaped in amazement as the earth rose up forming a wall around them. It was a little over chest high, but it made their position defendable. Across the camp he caught Kara Zorel’s eye and knew she had heard his and Merlin’s conversation. He gave her a nod, she returned it, the line of her jaw hard. 

Looking back down, he helped Merlin up. “Don’t die.” 

////

Gwaine swung his sword to behead the first assailant to reach him. He heard Morgana and felt the heat from her wall of fire preventing their enemies from surrounding them instantly. Grimacing, he realized that intervening in the magical duel she’d just rushed into wasn’t possible. There was fire, lightning and just plain energy blasting about as she moved in a deadly dance with what seemed to be the leader, as well as red headed woman who was standing to the man’s side throwing magic about as well. 

Impaling another man, he released his sword knowing that he didn’t have time to yank it out of the body. Yanking a spear out of the ground her spun before driving it through another man’s chest. Looking up quickly he felt a thrum of victory at the sight of Aithusa diving, she was nearly to them. A high priestess and a dragon would turn this ambush into a route of their enemies. Grinning recklessly he drew his second sword and slammed the pommel down onto a man’s head cracking his skull. A second glance at the dragon caused his blood to freeze in his veins. 

A great golden shape crashed into Aithusa mid air, the sounds of roaring and cries of pain filled the field as everyone looked up. There was a second dragon and they attacking each other in a great series of fire and claws. Gwaine snarled slashing at another enemy. The other dragon was larger and he had no doubt older. They needed to free up Morgana to help Aithusa or they would lose. They couldn’t take on these numbers and a dragon.

His moment of distraction cost him as he was thrown from his horse. He hit the ground, the air driving out of him. Laying there wheezing, his vision flickered. Rolling onto the side he heaved spilling bile from his mouth. He could hear his horse crying out in it’s death throes. Hauling himself to his knees he looked and saw hell. The fire was burning itself out more men rushing through the dying embers, horses dying, men dying, the ground was damp. He saw a man in leather armor coming at him with an axe. 

Somehow he hadn’t released his sword. Staggering to his feet he swung it upwards cutting the man from groin to shoulder, his intestines spilling out onto the ground. Turning he looked desperately for Morgana. She was their only hope of winning this day. 

There she was standing alone in a clearing that hadn’t existed last he’d seen. The stumps of shattered and burned trees lay about the battle of magic. There were five magicals circling her and fighting. She was losing, but he knew she’d last a while. 

Staggering towards the battle, he lopped the head off a charging man. Looking to his men, only a few were still on horseback. Most on the ground were either fighting on foot or already dead. “TO THE PRIESTESS! TO THE QUEEN MORGANA!” 

Stumbling another step forward he could feel his strength returning as he moved forward. “KNIGHTS OF NEMETH PROTECT THE QUEEN!”

He careened into the next attacker bodily sending them both to the ground, with him on top. With the coordination of a drunk he slammed his gauntleted fist into the man’s face. Then he slammed the pommel of his sword down again. It was gruesome as it the face gave in beneath his wrath. He didn’t really process, it was all blood, desperation and a need to fight on.

Heaving himself back to his feet he fought forward. Another enemy’s legs gone, knife to the throat of the next, sword slashing a stomach open, fist to the face to knock a man down and not bothering to finish him off. Slash, parry, block, stab, slash, punch, kick, slash. 

Then abruptly there was nothing between him and the battle of magic. He grinned viciously in victory as he realized the people locked in a magical dance of destruction hadn’t noticed him. Which was good, as they were gods among men. He’d never say it, but magic scared him because he knew he would certainly lose against it. It was something so far out of his control that he could barely comprehend it, like the heavens themselves were being used against mere mortals. 

Grabbing the shoulder of the red headed woman sorcerer, he yanked her to his chest before slitting her throat. Dropping the body he stumbled before straightening and charging the next magic user. 

A stream of fire singed his hair as he ducked the magic before slashing his sword up and into the next sorcerer. Charging forward he drove his sword through the chest of the next man. He stared into the eyes of the leader of the attack. A vicious smile spread across his lips. “You lose.” 

The man thrust his hand out, magic words on his lips, his eyes flaring yellow. Gwaine felt himself picked up and thrown back. He crashed into a tree, he felt and heard the crack as he impacted. Gasping for breath he hacked violently, blood spilling from his mouth. He didn’t look down, he knew the pain he already knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up and go back to the fight. Instead he showed his teeth, blinking the blood out of his eyes and whispered. “You took your eyes off her, you fool.” 

The leader of the attack had a look of shock on his face as he stared at Morgana who propelled a knife straight through his throat. Reaching up the man grabbed at his neck before collapsing like a puppet with it’s strings cut. 

Gwaine could see his remaining knights circling round Morgana. Good, they just might survive. They’d protect Nemeth. Nemeth was safe, Mithian and the boys were safe. His eyes closed with exhaustion, as he was unable to keep them open any longer. 

////

Percival heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him. Looking over his shoulder and he saw the bastards. Men wearing the colors of Cendred, men that, if they were here, meant Leon was right. Agravaine was a traitor. Men whose presence meant Leon was dead. Because he was the most loyal knight who’d ever lived, and if these men had gotten past him than they had to have gone through him. 

Drawing his sword turned to face the oncoming men. “INTRUDERS! GET THE QUEEN TO SAFETY!” 

He didn’t look back, he knew his knights would understand. They would get her to the keep, they’d shut the doors and bar them. But they would need time. Raising his sword he roared before charging down the hall. 

His sword went through the first man’s neck beheading him. The second he kicked. He could see Agravaine, the traitor. Percival had never felt hate like this before. Spit flew from his mouth as sliced open the next man crashing into another. With a roar he sent the soldier flying, knocking the men behind him down. 

Percival didn’t stop to ensure they were dead. He focused on his target. Gritting his teeth he ignored the pain as he felt a dagger stabbed through his shoulder. Just slamming his other elbow into the man’s face who’d done it. In front of him Agravaine was backpedaling desperately to get away. 

A blade went through his calf. Percival grit his teeth and threw his sword impaling Agravaine though the gut. He saw the shock, the pain. The man hadn’t even been wearing mail. There was no hope of surviving a gut wound like that. Turning he grabbed the man who’d stabbed him and threw him into the wall. 

Panting he stared as those that should be dead stood. Only the man missing his head stayed down. The others began to pick themselves up. Percival grit his teeth and yanked the sword out of his leg. Gripping the handle he glared before charging into them. 

////

Morgana watched Alavarr drop, and turned up to examine the field. Those who knew enough magic to give the knights trouble were dead. Standing around were a dozen knights of Nemeth, and Gwaine was not among them. She forced the pain down. “Hold them off as long as you can.” 

Focusing on the aerial battle above her, she let her magic go. She let it meld into the magic of the earth, in the sky, in everything and nothing. Raising her hand she commanded the heavens and the heavens listened. Great black clouds swirled together under her command, the air charged, her hair stood on end. Opening her mouth she waited for Aithusa to break away from Kilgharrah and then cried out, dropping her arm. 

The sky lit up as lightning crashed into the airborne dragon over and over. She’d never commanded magic so great before and doubted she’d ever do so again. The power of it was intoxicating, flowing through her as she struck the beast that had called her evil, who’d manipulated Merlin, who’d done nothing but be vile and manipulative, that had hurt Kara. Another scream erupted from her lips as the largest bolt of lightning yet speared through the dragon sending it crashing from the sky into a heap on the ground. 

Turning she faced the frozen men and women of Alavarr’s rebels. She could see the fear and awe in their faces. But she didn’t care if they threw down their weapons or not. She turned her arm towards them and called the heavens down and the heavens came down with cracks and booms. Lightning burned them alive even where they stood. When not an enemy was left standing she lowered her arms and let the magic go. Her knees buckled and she dropped before tipping to the side. 

Morgana didn’t hit the ground though. One of the knights of Nemeth caught her. Looking up into his rough face she saw awe, fear, but most of all respect. “We’ve won my lady. We’ve won.” 

Her eyes flickered. “Good.” And she fell into unconsciousness. 

////

Arthur jumped up onto a log and looked over his men. They turned to look at him, faces grim. Breathing in, he spoke. “We stand between an evil foe and our homes. The people who march on us are vile men, who’ve sold their souls so that their bodies won’t die. Despite the fact they can’t be killed, we must stand and fight.” Looking around he spread his arms. “You all know Merlin, most of us owe him our lives several times over.” He felt his lips turn up at the corners as the men nodded, some even smiling wanly. “Merlin has given us victory in impossible situations before and he will today. We must hold this line till he can end the foul magic keeping our enemies in their half-lives.”

He stared at his men, seeing their faces settle, resolved. They would fight for Merlin, knowing that he had never abandoned them. He continued, “If we fall, there is nothing that will stop Cendred’s march on Camelot. We must fight, even if it is to our deaths, to protect everything we hold dear. Together we will hold this position. Our enemies may be dead but they’re bodies are still human. Cripple them, behead them, slow them down. It doesn’t matter if they’re still breathing if their legs are gone. Without arms, how can a man hold a sword? Force them back, hold the line, protect each other, and know that we fight for all that we hold dear. Nobody escapes from death. Carry out what you started. Fight your enemy. The triumph will be ours. For Camelot!” 

Jumping off the log, he strode to the front of the earthen wall. He grabbed a help and pulled it over his head, buckling it under his chin. Visor down, he slung his shield off his back and secured it to his arm. Rolling his shoulders, he watched the enemy coming towards them; a great mass of men in black with sickly red sigils on their tunics. Their armor was minimal, no fear in their faces. 

Arthur grit his teeth and raised his shield. They were gaining. “Spears at the ready!” He raised his sword waiting for them to come within range. A spear may not kill the men but he’d like to see them fight effectively with a massive wooden pole sticking out of them. “Ready….Now!” He swung his sword down and his men who had spears hurled them into the oncoming forces. Men tripped and fell, quickly concealed by the oncoming wave of enemies. “Spears! Ready! NOW!” 

A second wave of spears hurled out into the early light striking true, piercing through bodies that did not die. Arthur checked that the oil was where it should be. They were almost upon them. “Mordred! Now!” 

There was a burst of flame and then it became a wall of blistering heat and flame engulfing hundreds of men who screamed in agony but kept on coming. Some tripped and careened about, their bodies burning even as they lived. But still the army marched. Raising his sword Arthur clenched his jaw. 

Cendred’s army began to sprint. Bracing himself, Arthur stood firm as they crashed into the dirt wall and his line. Swinging his blade, he stabbed and slashed at every piece of flesh he could reach, turning the men to dust. The air filled with the sound of steel clashing into steel, the thud of weapons hitting shields. He saw great swaths of white light cutting dozens of men in half along their flank. Kara had hit then, protecting their sides as best she could. 

Crushing another man beneath his sword, he barely was able to duck behind the earthen wall in time to miss losing his head to a great boulder sent flying. The man behind him wasn’t so lucky, crushed beneath its weight. Staring, he looked up to see what had caused that, as they hadn’t spotted any of Cendred’s mages. But there on the hill he saw her. Morgause, magic swirling in a great mass around her. He knew enough to recognize a prepared magical defense. Arrows would be useless. “ZOREL!” 

Stabbing a man, he raised his shield and looked to where the fae was blasting more men with those white-hot eyes. She looked to him, questioning. He pointed with his sword to Morgause. “Kill her!” 

////

Elyan frowned and looked to the tower where he could hear the bells ringing. “What?” The bells only rang as a signal that the walls had been breached, but he could clearly see that the gates were intact. The camp of the enemy hadn’t shown signs of an attack. His horse snorted and pawed at the cobblestones uneasy as confused whispers spread among the men. 

Turning his horse around to face the inner walls, Elyan considered. If this wasn’t a false alarm… “With me, we sweep the inner castle.”

Geoffrey, one of the younger knights, looked at him curiously. “But our orders are to wait here for sight of the king’s army?” 

He looked at the other knights who clearly were uneasy leaving their post. “Look, those bastards aren’t going anywhere. Now if someone has managed to sneak into our capital and kills the Queen, my sister, while we sit out here what do you think the King will do to us then?” 

There was nodding as the men moved their horses around as well. Elyan breathed out in relief. “Stay together, tight formation. Let’s go.” 

At a quick canter they made their way up the road to the central castle. Then he saw him. Urging his horse forward, he broke into a gallop before pulling up to a bleeding soldier in Camelot’s colors. Dismounting, he grabbed the man hauling him up. “What’s happened? Who did this to you?” 

The man, or boy really, as he couldn’t have been a day over seventeen, let out a cry of pain as the gaping wound in his side was touched. His face was pale, blood dripping from his nose. “They came in through the siege passages. They won’t die! It doesn’t matter how much we hit them they won’t die.” 

Elyan grit his teeth. “There’s a healing station two blocks down. Can you make it that far?” 

The boy shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’re all going to die.” 

Grimacing he hauled the kid to the door of the shop and banged on the door. Dropping the kid on the doorstep he stepped back. “They will get you to the healers.” Turning, he mounted up again. He looked to his men and gave sharp orders. “To the Queen!” 

////

Morgana felt herself wake, unconsciousness dragging at her. But she fought through, she needed to wake. She knew she had to wake. Her entire body ached, and she knew this feeling - combat and over use of magic. Groaning, she sat up. 

“Hey, easy. You’re alright.” A familiar voice said, while a gentle hand supported her back. A cup of water was pressed into her hand. 

She took it, sipping cautiously before blinking her eyes open. Morgana saw who was helping her. It was Mithian, who looked afraid. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “...Gwaine?” 

Mithian’s face was tight and drawn. She cleared her throat. The silence spoke louder than words. Finally, she spoke. “You need to return to Camelot.” 

She frowned. “What? You need me here. What if Odin attacks? I... I cannot leave you. Not after… I can’t.” 

“No.” Mithian shook her head. “He won’t attack after what you did. We could see it from here.” The woman stared down at her lap. “I’ve never seen anything like that before, the walls of this castle shook, Morgana. They are calling you a storm god, a force of nature, I don’t…” She shook her head. “We received news this morning that Cendred’s forces have invaded the land of Lancelot de Lac. You are needed at home, news travels slowly between our nations. If they need you word will not come in time.” 

Morgana bit her lip. “Mithian, I should stay. Our alliance, our friendship….Rao, we’re practically family! I trust the others to hold Camelot. I’m needed here.”

 

“No.” Mithian reached out, squeezing her hands as silent tears ran down her cheeks. “Enough death has happened already. Go, protect your people. Our alliance is honored. There is nothing left here now, save to wait for the healers to tell us who will survive the night and who will never be whole again.” 

Reaching out, Morgana pulled her friend into a hug. She could feel her trembling. With all her heart she wished she could stop the pain, that she could tell Mithian that Gwaine wasn’t dead. But she remembered his limp body, blood staining the ground around him. Squeezing her friend she tried to impart how much she cared. “When Cendred is handled I will return. You will not be alone in this.” 

////

Kara hit the magical shield around Morgause with all the power she had. The ground cracked, her bones creaked, and then she was flung hard into the ground, decimating several of the enemy as she hit. Struggling to her feet, she felt the plate mail digging into her, bent from the impact. She tore it from her body, leaving herself in her chain alone. Glaring up at the witch in front of her she charged again. 

Again and again she slammed into the wall of magic. Her skin burned from contact with it, but she could see Morgause was tiring. Stumbling to her feet yet again she met the woman’s gaze head on. And then she was diving to the side to avoid the magic blast flying at her. 

“You may be powerful fae, but I am a priestess of the old religion. You cannot kill me.” Morgause snarled while forming a great ball of flame in one hand and throwing it at her. 

Kara ducked and charged against the shield only to be sent flying yet again. Spitting out a mouthful of red tinged spit she could see the shield waver ever so slightly. She spoke up hoping to give herself a chance to breathe. “I don’t know, you’re not looking so good there.” 

Morgause laughed as she lightning began to form between her hands. “Well if I can’t hit you maybe I can hit them?” 

She realized what was about to happen. The bolt was aimed for the knights desperately fighting the dead. A bolt of that size would create a hole in the earthen wall, destroying their barely standing ability to defend themselves. It wasn’t a choice. They were her people, people she would never forgive herself for failing. Her body moved between the witch and the men flinging her arms out wide. 

The lightning hit like a sledge hammer. She hit the ground with a scream, her body moving without her permission. It was worse than any hit by Livewire. The magic in the spell had burned through her head and out her feet. But she couldn’t stop, it didn’t care she hadn’t felt this much hurt in longer than she could remember. Rolling onto her stomach, she crawled to her feet. Staring at Morgause laughing in victory from her bubble of protection, she felt nothing but hate. 

Hate for this woman who was Morgana’s kin yet refused her. Hate for this woman who reveled in cruelty and death. Hate for this woman who would destroy her world yet again. Kara felt her hate burning behind her eyes and she let it out. Everything she had in her poured out in pure energy. The white hot light crashed into the magical shield.

Morgause stumbled as if physically struck. Throwing up her arms she tried to hold the faltering shield. The magic formed a solid clear shell that began to crack. And then in a rush of magic and heat, it imploded in on itself. 

Kara’s heat vision died out as she fell into the dirt. But she wasn’t done, she couldn’t be done. Not until she was sure that none of her friends would die by the witch’s magic ever again. Spitting out dirt and blood, she hauled herself to her feet. Hunched over, she held her side as she stepped across the ruin that was their battlefield. Leaning down, she grabbed a sword blackened by flame. She stumbled over the uneven ground, and she could smell the charred remains, the stench of death, and the smell of fresh dirt. 

Ignoring it all, she relentlessly made her way forward for the heap that was the high priestess. Kara didn’t smile or take joy in the sight of the woman touching her ravaged face. She just kept approaching the woman who’d caused so much harm. Stopping before her Kara raised the sword. There were no final words, not pretty thoughts or rationalizations. She just plunged the blade blackened by magical fire through the witch’s chest. 

Once the last gurgling breath’s left the woman’s body she kicked it off the end of her sword and turned for the battle. Wiping her brow she grimaced at the sight of her own blood. Well then... her powers were burnt out. And the enemy was still winning, even without their witch. She saw a man on horseback, duel swords out, charging for Arthur who was standing on the earthen defence hacking at the enemy. 

Mordred was using magic and blade alike to protect the people. But despite the bravery and skill she could see they were losing. Gritting her teeth she saw that Arthur was being overwhelmed. Plodding forward, she began to make her way towards him. She had no sword blessed with dragon fire to kill the dead. No powers to cripple and stop the enemy. No invulnerability to shrug off attacks. Her steps quickened. But she would not leave her people to death. If they were to die this day she would die with them. Breaking into a run she crashed into the side of the undead.

////

Gwen stood firm. The royal household staff and what soldiers had survived the initial assault by the enemy were locked within. She stood before the throne, her surviving men lined up in front of her, servants and children clutching anything they could to defend themselves with. Gaius was reinforcing the shaking door with magic. She knew it was hopeless, but yet she refused to give in. No, she would stand strong until the very end. 

The wooden doors cracked, the edge of an axe appearing through the small gap before being hauled back. Her fingers clenched around the sword in her hand. “We do not give in.” Her voice echoed round the room. “It has been my honor to serve as your queen. Never give in, Never surrender. To the death!”

To the side one of the young pages, his lips pale and shaky whispered, “Death.” 

Other’s began to join in till it was a great rising tide of a chant. “Death, death, death, DEATH!” 

And she was knew they would face the oncoming storm with honor. The doors cracked and fell. She saw the tables of the hall turned over to create defenses. The first arrow loosed struck Gaius in the chest, who stepped back before collapsing. “ATTACK!”

////

Arthur turned yet another of the countless foes into dust. Another didn’t take the man’s place. Looking up saw Cendred charging towards him, both of the man’s signature swords drawn as he cried out while charging. 

Straightening his spine, he dropped his broken shield, now weighed down by the axe embedded in it. Lifting his sword, he planted his feet and waited. Ducking the first blow, he swung his sword through the horse’s legs. 

With a great cry the horse went down sending its rider crashing into the dirt. Arthur spat out the dust that covered his tongue and nose. His helmet shifted, the slits no longer aligned with his eyes. Reaching up he unhooked the helm and ripped it from his head. He stood and watched as Cendred picked himself up. Their eyes met and they fell upon each other in a clash of blades. 

He could feel the burn in his muscles as he was pushed back into the earthen wall. At this point the wall was little more than an obstacle, too much of the enemy had already climbed it. But still it protected his back some. Hitting one of Cendred’s swords away from him, he managed to dodge the other as it stabbed into the earth where his head had just been. 

A blinding, burning pain ran up from his leg. Spinning as he went down on one knee, he turned the soldier who’d just stabbed him through the thigh into dust. But it was enough for Cendred to be on him. Raising his sword he barely managed to block. Arthur stared into the man’s eyes and he felt a deep primal refusal to die. He would not go down like this. Gathering the spit in his mouth he spat it into Cendred’s eyes. 

The enemy king closed his eyes on instinct. Arthur swung his sword down diverting the duel blades to the side before swinging with all of his strength for the man’s neck. There was a sick sensation of his blade becoming stuck in the spinal cord. Arthur grunted as he realized that this man hadn’t been immortal like the others. As such he would not turn to ash. Reaching out grabbed the dying king’s shoulder and shoved ripping his sword free. 

Excalibur, his sword and the only weapon that could do damage in this war, became dislodged. Arthur’s fingers, soaked in blood that was not his own, lost their grip. The sword spun away from him and landed in the dirt. He kneeled there, the blood of his enemy soaking into him, his weapon lost, and knew he could not reach it before the enemy was upon him. Looking up, he took in the face of the charging soldier. Such a plain and common face for a kingslayer.

////

Merlin followed the sickly trail of magic on silent feet, his own magic wrapping shadows around himself to keep him from sight. The closer he got to Castle Lac the deeper his fears ran. There was no sign of death and battles lost as he closed into the castle. He knew what that meant, but he refused to accept it. It wasn’t possible. 

Running onwards, he ignored the sick feeling in his gut as he failed to pass any bodies of dead defenders. Bursting from the forest, he dared not think of why the gates were open. There was no time for subtlety now that he’d reached the epicenter of wrongness that was the cup of life. Raising his staff he thrust his arm with it, throwing out magic into the loitering guards and sending Cendred’s colors flying. 

He ran, skidding into the servants entrance to the keep. Running up the stairs he threw a guard into the wall. He passed the stunned man and tossed him down the stairs behind him for good measure. He didn’t want to think about what it meant if there was a guard in the servants stairs, and that there was no smell of death or battle to this place. 

He was halfway to the great hall when he heard the warning bells rung. He didn’t pause, he just kept running, his feet pounding on the flagstones as he sprinted for all he was worth. Three more guards were sent careening out of his way before he blew the great oak door out of his way. As the doors shatters against stone he saw the cup of life on a pedestal in the center of the hall. He knew what that meant. He didn’t understand, but he knew. 

Raising his arms, rage, betrayal, and sorrow fueled his magic as he poured it out, evaporating the defenders with it. Stalking forward his eyes burned gold and the light did not die even as he grabbed the cup and poured its bloody contents on the ground. Holding it still in his hand, his knuckles whitened as he felt the cursed magic break. Turning to the door he wrapped magic around himself and ran out of the room towards the stables. 

The only explanation was that Lancelot was a traitor. It was the only way for the castle to be taken without sign of a fight, the only way for the countryside not to be pillaged and burned, as Cendred gloried in doing to his foes. Lancelot was with Arthur. Arthur who couldn’t possibly know or suspect that his friend, his brother in arms, was a traitor.

////

Elyan was hunkered behind his shield, shoulder to shoulder with his men when suddenly the air was full of dust and ash, weapons clattering to the ground. Peeking over his shield he realized the formerly packed hall was now simply coated with the ashes of their enemies. He didn’t care how or why. He just needed to get to his sister. “Come on! To the Queen!” 

Charging down the halls he felt sick at the sight of the bodies in Camelot’s colors grotesquely sprawled across the stone. Blood pooled about their bodies, dust muting the color. Forcing back the bile in his throat he took the next corner towards the throne room and nearly tripped over a large body. A body he recognized. 

“Percival!” 

Dropping to one knee he grabbed the man around the neck. Choking on sorrow, he stared in horror at the man’s chalky skin. There was an axe embedded into his chest, a knife sticking out of one shoulder, a leg missing at the knee. Lowering his friend’s head to the floor he grit his teeth before looking up and seeing the splinters of what should have been the door into the throne room. Lunging forward past his friend he kept running. “GUINEVERE!” 

Sprinting full tilt into the room he saw his sister. She was standing in a resplendent court gown, her crown on her head. But the dress was splattered with blood, ash smudged her face. Rips from what had to have been weapons broke up the dresses length yet she still stood, head held high. He didn’t care about the bodies, the wounded, or the living. None of them mattered to him as he crashed into her, hugging her to himself. “You’re alive, oh god you’re alive.” 

She hugged him back. “I am.” 

Finally he pulled back and took in the destruction. Helplessly he looked back to her. “What do we do?” 

There was a great roar that interrupted them. A great chunk of the roof ripped away before disappearing out of a sight. Then a great shattering thump as Aithusa landed on the wall. The dragon’s head ducked into the hall and screamed in fury. Elyan was petrified. 

Gwen ran towards the beast, calling out. “Aithusa! It’s alright, the enemy is dead.” 

“Gwen!?” A voice called from the back, and there seated on the dragon’s back was Morgana, her hair loose in the wind, dirt and blood stained, but looking unharmed. 

Elyan waved the surviving knights - and were those servants with butchering knives and chairs? - back. He felt nothing but relief at the sight of the dragon now that the immediate terror was dying off. 

His sister spoke quickly. “Arthur and the others are at the border. They need your help more than we do here. Camelot still stands.” 

Morgana threw her head to the side looking towards the border before turning back. “I’ll return.” With that she clicked her tongue and the great dragon lifted off and they flew towards the border. 

He stepped to his sister. Now that he was looking he saw the blood dripping down the wall from where the dragon had landed. “Gwen, Aithusa was injured.” 

“We must send support to the front.” Gwen’s hands were shaking he realized. Turning to him her eyes were hard. “We must secure the castle. Prepare a team to block the siege tunnels.” 

////

Mordred was swinging his sword when the enemy burst into dust all about them. His swing wend wide, titling his balance. Gasping for breath he steadied himself and blinked through the floating dust. Raising an arm he ran it across his mouth to wipe away the filth. He could hear the groans of pain, smell the stench of death. Stumbling from his post he looked for the living but everywhere he turned he saw his friends and companions dead. Even those still living looked beyond saving. Then.. there! He saw another man standing, looking around stunned. 

He headed for the man, and he could see more men supporting themselves with their swords, or laying on their sides gasping for breath. “You there!” 

The mostly upright knight looked to him. He recognized him as one of his agemates, Sir. Galahad. “Get the wounded off the battlefield. Find the other survivors. I need to find the king.” 

Galahad nodded. “Go.” 

Mordred wished he had the energy to give a sign of acknowledgement but he didn’t. He just moved onwards, and he reached the earthen wall they had long since been pushed back from. Last he’d seen Arthur was on the other side of it trying to draw the focus away from them. With that in mind he clambered over it. His foot slipped and he crashed down on the other side. Looking around he saw three figures. 

As he got closer he realized the body on the ground was Cendred. A vicious thrill ran through him before he sighed in relief. There was Arthur and the man reaching out to help him off the ground was Lancelot. They’d made it. His mouth turned up in a smile, his brow relaxing, eyes crinkling. They’d won. Merlin made it, and Arthur lived. 

He felt the sense of survival becoming real as he watched Lancelot haul Arthur to his feet and then… Something was wrong. His smile faded as he took a step forward. Lancelot was saying something in the king’s ear. And then Arthur was toppling to the side, eyes wide. Mordred opened his mouth to call out. Only there was a bloody dagger in Lancelot’s hand. 

Mordred wasn’t aware of the screaming, or his hand flying out. 

Surprised, Lancelot turned towards him just before the magic hit him. The knight, friend, traitor, murderer froze, every muscle in his body held in place by Mordred’s magic. 

Charging forward, Mordred clenched his fist and lifted it, hitting himself in the chest with his closed fist. Lancelot’s fist copied his, only his still held the knife he’d killed the king with. 

Mordred blasted the now dying man to the side with a blink of his eyes before dropping to his knees by Arthur’s side.“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...” Pressing his hands down on the bloody wound, he realized he was saying something. 

“Mor...dred.” Arthur’s eyes had trouble focusing but they looked up at him. His gloved hand reached up grabbing onto Mordered’s shoulder. “Protect Camelot….promise.” 

Nodding violently, he felt wet hot tears streaming down his face, through the dirt and ash still caked onto it. “I promise, Camelot is safe, I promise. Arthur don’t go. You can’t go. Camelot needs you, we all need you! I need you...” 

Arthur’s face eased. “Take care of them…”

“Arthur...” Mordred sniffled. “ARTHUR!” 

Shifting he pulled Arthur’s head into his lap. He wasn’t aware of how long he stayed there kneeling, sobbing in the dirt, the dead king’s head in his lap. He didn’t look up until he heard the sound of hooves. Looking up through dried eyes, he met the gaze of Merlin. His voice cracked as he tried to call out. Instead all he could do was speak as he had as a child. Sending his thoughts out with magic to the other warlock’s mind. ‘Merlin.’ 

////

Morgana knew as she and Aithusa flew for the ground that the battle was over. She could see the dirty and bedraggled survivors dragging the wounded to a makeshift tent. From the sky she could see the earthen wall, Merlin’s work, she realized. Then to the side she saw what looked to be the scene of a great magical battle. Circling, they landed near the tent of the wounded. She grimaced as she dismounted, seeing the claw marks in Aithusa’s side. The scabs had fallen off with all the riding. Closing her eyes, she murmured words of healing, forcing the blood to stop and scabs to reform. Still weak from her earlier battle, she stopped at that. 

Turning she saw that something was horribly wrong, beyond just death. The faces were too grim, too defeated. Stumbling to the tent she spotted Merlin. “Merlin!” 

The man turned and she saw the devastation on his face. “Morgana.”

Looking around she felt horror pulling at her. “Where’s Kara? Merlin, where’s Kara?” 

He swallowed. “Arthur is dead Morgana.” 

Stumbling back, she clutched a hand to her chest. “No...” 

“And.” He swallowed thickly. “We found Kara on the outside of the wall, she’s… It’s not good, Morgana.” 

Morgana followed his eyes to the crumpled body on the floor not far from...from her brother. She stumbled to her side and dropped. It wasn’t hard to see, her body was riddled with injuries. Blood was crusted along the side of her mouth. There was a violent gash from her hairline down to her neck. It was jagged and still bleeding sluggishly. But it wasn’t what made the air in her very lungs freeze. There was a broken shaft of wood sticking out of her stomach. Looking up, her eyes stopped on the pale cold face of Arthur. Her eyes soon flicked back down to Kara, assuring herself that her chest still was rising and falling. Forcing herself to look back to Merlin, she felt herself struggling. “What...what do we do?” 

“I know our… idea wasn’t done. We hadn’t figured everything out but… Morgana it’s our only chance.” He wiped angrily at his eyes. 

She knew he expected her to resist. To insist they attempt to heal the wounds on Kara, to let it all end. But reaching out, she entwined her fingers with the still one’s of her wife. Kara would never forgive her for that. And...she wouldn’t forgive herself. “Alright.” 

Despite sounding taken aback Merlin pushed on. “We need to get to the isle of the blessed. Soon, she doesn’t have long.” His voice cracked before he pushed on. “Mordred will get the men back to Camelot.” 

“Alright.” 

////

Kara woke to the feel of the wind in her face, but the sensation died out as she felt nothing but agony ripping through every part of her. She was too weak to do anything but whimper, her eyes wouldn’t open, nothing would cooperate. There was a swooping sensation that she recognized despite the pain. Oh, she was flying on Aithusa. And then a warm hand was on her brow, words murmured and she was taken by darkness once more. 

 

The next time she woke the pain was more of a dull ache, her extremities numb. Her eyes cracked open and she realized she was looking up into Morgana’s face. Kara’s lips cracked a smiled at the sight of her mate. “‘Gana.” 

“Shush.” Morgana ran her fingers along the side of her face. “It won’t be much longer now. Just sleep darling.” 

Kara felt her brow crinkle, why was Morgana crying? But oh, that hand was lovely and she felt darkness claim her once more. 

 

There was a loud sound, like stone sliding over stone, that dragged her back to consciousness. It felt like she was swimming through the mud, everything was slow and thick. Why was the air so thick? 

Her eyes moved about, she realized she was in a box. It was dark and cold. She could feel the heat being leeched out of her. Shifting ever so slightly to the side, she saw Arthur’s face. He was laying on his side facing her, but something was wrong. Why wasn’t he moving, he was so pale... Panicked, her eyes widened and a scream built in the back of her throat. She wasn’t dead! She didn’t want to be buried! This was a tomb! 

“Darling I know.” Morgana was there suddenly leaning over her. Her hand curled round the back of her neck. “I know this is wrong, it’s all so wrong but this is the only way.” A sob caught in Morgana’s throat. Leaning forward, Morgana’s forehead touched hers. A curtain of black hair falling over them. “Listen to me Kara. When you get out you find me. Find me.” Then she pressed a desperate kiss to Kara’s lips. 

Kara tried to question her, to kiss her back, but she barely managed anything. She needed to stop what was making Morgana sad. Why would she need to find her? She was right there! No one could take her away. She couldn’t ask though, as Morgana stepped back. Those green eyes she loved burned gold and suddenly she felt a pressure in her chest. It was like there was a sun burning inside of her. Mouth falling open a scream tore from her lips as a slab of stone slid over the top locking her beneath it. And then everything went dark both within her mind and without.


	3. Merlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so last chapter. I think I'm gonna take a couple days to work on another project before I get to part four. I'm about half way through drafting the first chapter for it. So I'll have it up before the end of the week. But I'm gonna give myself a couple days. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far in the story and I hope you follow me to part four. I'm kind of in love with this story.

Merlin knew, she could see it on his face as soon as she saw him. He watched Guinevere's face, so full of life and joy, crumple. The strength that lay there always, falling away like ash and dust. He caught her before her knees could hit the ground. 

Later that night he lay beside her in bed, just holding her. He didn’t know how to comfort her, not when he himself was bereft. What was Camelot without Arthur? 

////

-One week after the death of Arthur-

Merlin knocked on the still-open door to Morgana’s room. Stepping in, he saw her curled up on her side hugging a pillow to her chest. “Morgana.” 

“Go away Merlin.” 

He stepped forward, carrying a tray with soup and plain bread. “You must eat.” He didn’t dare tell her that Kara would want more for her. “You’re growing weak.” 

“I sit on the throne. What I do in my own time is none of your business.” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. 

Setting the tray down on the table beside her bed, he reached over to help her up. She didn’t resist as he pulled her up and pushed the soup into her hands. “Now then, eat up. You’re my friend. I bonded with your brother; think that makes us family.” He caught her eye and watched as she finally accepted that he wasn’t going to leave. 

As she began to sip, he sat at the foot of her bed. “Mithian wrote. She assured us Nemeth would led us any aid we asked for in our time of need.” 

“No one will attack now. They think I still have magic.” Her voice was bitter as she bit into the piece of bread. 

He shrugged. “Appearances are important. They think you can call down a storm capable of killing a dragon and a hundred men. That’s important. It keeps Camelot safe, gives us time to rebuild. And your magic will come back in time.” 

She looked up at him. “I don’t… I would give it all to her a thousand times. How do you keep going?” 

Merlin closed his eyes feeling the weight of his grief around his shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

////

-One month after the death of Arthur-

Merlin snarled as he hit the wall over and over and over. His knuckles bled, the bones in his hands shattering and still he sobbed before collapsing onto his knees. His blood painted the stone. He was passive as he allowed Morgana to wrap linen around his hands. 

“You’ll have to heal these later.” Her voice was soft. “What happened?” 

He found his voice a croak as he replied. “I found a letter in Agravaine’s chambers.” Swallowing his rage and sorrow, he continued. “He poisoned Gwen, made her barren. He stole that from us. A child, with Arthur’s eyes and... oh Rao he took it from us.” 

Morgana remained silent but her arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Her hand rubbed at his back. He could feel her anger and sorrow bubbling within her. Reaching up, he clutched at her arm. “Why would he do that? I don’t understand.” 

“You’re not talking of Agravaine now are you?” She sighed as he nodded against her. “Lancelot...he was in pain and alone for years. From his letters to you we know my sister sunk her claws into him.” 

“He was our friend. The best of us.” Merlin protested. He couldn’t believe his first friend to know and protect him despite his magic, had turned traitor. It was Lancelot! The most noble man he’d ever met.

Morgana made a low sound in her throat. “Both of us were granted the love of our lives loving us back. You perhaps would have survived watching Arthur and Gwen all your life.” He could hear the catch in her voice. “You’re good and you love them both. How could you have felt anything but happy for them? But think. Think if Viviane had married Arthur instead.”

He pulled back glaring at the ground. “I would have hated her.” 

“And if left long enough..” She trailed off pointedly before letting out a harsh breath. “I don’t think it helped that you joined the two of them. You were his best friend, to know Arthur gained the two people he loved most? To make the decision to leave his seat as a knight of the round table to become a lord. He was angry and it twisted him.” 

Merlin shook his head. “I can’t…”

She reached out and pulled his chin up so that he was looking into her eyes. “I know because if Kara hadn’t been there I know I could have been twisted into something dark and terrible. We all have that in us. Don’t do him the disservice of imagining him incapable of it.” 

“How are you not furious?” He croaked. 

Morgana seemed to retreat into herself. “I burnt everything out. My magic, my anger. I only have pain left, Merlin.” 

////

-Six months after the death of Arthur-

Merlin stood behind the throne as a new batch of knights swore fealty to Gwen and Morgana. He caught their excitement and it made something dark and ugly inside of him unclench. Camelot still stood, the ideals and dream of his family still lived. His eyes fell to the backs of his queens’ heads. 

////

-Seven months after the death of Arthur-

Merlin held the little girl in his arms. She was tiny and perfect. Looking to Mithian who was laying, tired and proud, her hair spread out across her pillow some of it sticking to her sweaty face; she was still painfully beautiful even after childbirth. He held the child out to her. Gwaine may not be there but he would never let her be alone. “You have a baby girl.” 

Mithian accepted the girl into her arms, her smile soft. “Hello little one.” 

He dropped onto one knee, his hands stretching subtly from where he’d been letting her squeeze. He quickly summoned a cool cloth, laying it on her head. “She’s beautiful Mithian.” 

She laughed out a sob before kissing the girl’s forehead. “Her name day isn’t for a while. But do you believe Morgana would allow her to be named for Ser Zorel?” 

“Yes, I think she will.” Merlin felt the first smile he’d worn since that terrible day. 

Mithian seemed to see something in his face. “Hold her?” 

Reaching out, he took the little babe and cradled her with all the care in the world. He felt great large tears falling down his face. “She’s beautiful, so beautiful.” 

////

-Ten months after death of Arthur-

Merlin found Gwen staring out the window. Stepping up beside her, he caught her hand. “Mordred?” 

“He’ll be a good king.” She didn’t move her eyes from where she was watching Mordred and Morgana spar against each other. She was forcing him to use his magic better, faster, and more practically for battle. Even without her own she was dangerous and knowledgeable. 

Squeezing her hand, he remained silent. Finally she turned and stroked his bearded cheek. “But not yet, we still can give him a better Camelot to rule.” 

He smiled. “We’ll build this nation how we intended while we were still whole.” 

“It’s what they deserve.” Gwen agreed, stepping into his space and resting her head on his shoulder. His arms automatically wrapped around her gently, his nose pressing into her hair.

////

-One year after the death of Arthur-

“Don’t look at me like that.” Morgana croaked. 

Merlin reached out, carefully wiping the sweat away from her brow. “It’s not fair. We can’t lose you too.” 

Her lips twitched up. “It’s not forever.” 

Holding her hand he ignored the clammy feel of it. “I promise to see it through.” 

“Thank you Merlin. You know the spell?” She checked, he could tell she was partially teasing him; leave it to Morgana to tease from her deathbed.

Nodding he chuckled. “I know the spell. We wrote it together, remember?” 

Her voice had a shaky quality to it as she laughed before falling into a series of horrible, wet, hacking coughs. 

Merlin handed her water and held it to her lips until she’d sipped some and her throat was soothed. 

She looked up at him. “Who’d have thought. Plague of all things.” Her face softened. “I’ve missed her, Merlin.”

He couldn’t say anything to that and just bowed his head, holding her hands tighter. 

////

-Five days after the death of Morgana-

Merlin carefully lifted the metal wedding band from the ashes of the fire. He wrapped it in a specific piece of embroidered silk that he tucked it into his jacket’s inner pocket. Stepping away from the remains of the pyre, he carefully wrapped his arm around Mordred. 

He could feel the man’s shoulder’s shaking with silent sobs for the loss of the closest person to a mother he’d ever had. “She was so incredibly proud of you.”

////

-Forty years after the death of Arthur-

Merlin held Gwen’s hand as her breath rattled with flu. He didn’t let go throughout the long night. When dawn came, he closed her eyelids, hiding cold eyes. With gentle fingers he slipped off her wedding ring. He was far too used to death. It just added to an always present ache. Kissing her cold forehead he stood, his body aching just as his heart did.

////

-Six days after the death of Gwen-

Merlin placed the crown of Camelot on Mordred’s head. He watched as the court cried out as one, “LONG LIVE THE KING!” 

 

Merlin watched the feast with a fond smile, as Mordred and his queen laughed together, their brood of children sitting about them at the royal table. He realized with a start he could see grey hairs on Mordred’s head. Was the boy who’d hidden in Camelot all those years ago, over fifty years already? Merlin found he didn’t wish to stand in the heart of the new court. Stepping away, he walked to the balcony. His old bones protested the cold but he didn’t make a move to drink from the potion in his pocket. 

“You’re leaving then?” 

Merlin smiled as he turned to face the last of his old friends left living. “Mithian.” He hugged her gently. “Yes, my task is done here.” 

She gave him a look of understanding as she joined him against the rail. “I’ve been thinking of abdicating the throne in favor of Garath. Maybe go to our southern castle, spoil my grandchildren.” 

“Rodor and Elise had their twelfth last month didn’t they?” He asked fondly. He’d always liked Gwaine’s eldest son. The boy had never liked to do the expected things, instead abandoning his rank to marry a commoner and become a farmer. 

“Yes.” Mithian looked out over the gardens. “I wonder why it was us who lived. We were never the movers, were we?” 

“No.” He sighed. “We didn’t inspire the people, we supported those who did that.” 

She curled her arm around his. “Do you think they’d be proud of what we accomplished?” 

“I think they’d be content with what we did.” He ran his fingers over the potion bottle in his pocket. “I will miss you, Mithian.” 

She looked up at him before kissing his cheek lightly. “We’ve had a good life. Perhaps the cost of great happiness is that it lasts too short a time.” 

He pulled out the small potion bottle. He popped the lid off before raising it. “May the future not be held to destiny.” And he downed it. 

////

-One week after the crowning of Mordred-

Merlin rowed the boat towards the isle of the blessed, his trunk in the back of it. He was still adjusting to his body from his youth. Being a young man of twenty again was strange; he was never going to get old enough for arthritis ever again. 

Finally, the boat slid across the gravel of the shore. Jumping out, he pulled it in further before levitating his trunk further onto the isle. He could feel the magic in the air, it was thick, nearly tangible. 

He reached the room with the stone tomb they’d placed Arthur and Kara in. It was covered in runes, the enchantment they’d placed practically vibrating from it. Stepping forward, he laid his hand on the top of the stone. It was warm to the touch. He smiled down at it. “I’ll see you when you wake.” 

Raising his hands he let his eyes burn as he raised the ancient enchantments of the isle. His entire being ran into it and isle folded away from reality, a tag along pocket, forever linked with time. 

Walking to his trunk he pulled out a thick wool blanket and threw it over the ground. Laying down on it he lifted a potion to his lips. Looking to the tomb, he smiled softly. “To your good health.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I was thinking some more about why Arthurian movies tend to suck and I want to ramble about it for a while. If I were to pick my favorite medieval period films they’d be A Knights Tale, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Disney’s Robin Hood, Ivanhoe, Robin Hood Men in Tights, The Princess Bride, The Sword in the Stone, The Name of the Rose, Henry V, Hamlet, and The Seventh Seal.
> 
> Let’s break that down a bit cause they’re not all exactly the same sort. Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Robin Hood Men in Tights, and The Princess Bride are all parody/comedy. They’re not historically accurate or really have much to do with the middle ages outside of some light aesthetics. I mean clearly in Monty Python they knew the history, but it has more to do with the era it was made in than the history. 
> 
> Next we have the disney films that have as much to do with the actual era as the comedies. I mean I loved Robin Hood and Sword in the Stone, but like they’re very disney. I want to point out their both some of the best version of their individual mythos’s just period. Which is really striking to me because what? Disney never has the most accurate depictions of shit, but in this case they did. 
> 
> Then we have the serious ones which would be Henry V and Hamlet both Shakespeare. The Name of the Rose a murder mystery. And The Seventh Seal a think piece on death and one of the best films of like..all time. Seriously the amount of our cultural concepts of shit that comes from that movie is unreal. Anyways then you have Ivanhoe which...ok I love it but dude as a film it’s not good. It has some great stuff in it, but just framing, editing, pace, ect is all just sorta...oh god. It’s honestly the weakest as a film out of all of these. 
> 
> Finally the one film that stands out to the rest of them for is A Knights Tale. Which it’s not historically accurate. I mean Chaucer was...he’s one of my favorite authors and like he’s nothing like the movie character. Also his story that the movie is named for has absolutely nothing to do with the actual film. And it plays fast and loose with costumes, manners, courtship, history, ect. But you know what it does get? It gets what it’s about. You jousting and shit? yeah it’s the best representation of what that stuff was like for people to watch I’ve ever seen. And yes it’s ridiculous but it got what it was all about. And women being blacksmiths? Totally a thing. You did not fucking mess with the blacksmith ok, you just didn’t. Rumor had it those fuckers could summon the devil. Don’t screw with the lady blacksmith she might end you. 
> 
> But that film was fun and exciting! It was this great mix of modern and history and it got the story. That classic medieval story of the hero who wins the lady’s affections through tournaments. And they made the hero a modern hero, and they gave it a modern paint job. But that story resounded because it fucking hit the mark on what jousting meant to those people. It got it. And I think it’s a way for us to see what these other films that succeeded did that sets them apart. 
> 
> They all have a story, a real story that doesn’t need the knights and history to work. Hell even Ivanhoe and Henry V the two most historically rooted of the list can work in other settings. Our stories with knights and stuff get bogged down in stuff we don’t care about, the spectacle. What they lose is the heart of the film. The era should be window dressing to the story, not a constraint to the story. All those boring as hell Arthurian movies? They get so caught up in the ‘Arthur’ story they forget to do their own thing, tell their own story. They get stuck because they think they have to tell ‘the’ story. But nobody out to care about that. 
> 
> Arthurian legend has a long history of being retold by different people and being changed as it passes from generation to generation, culture to culture. If you write about Galahad’s conception it’s a totally different story today vs. then. So write the story for a now audience! Arthurian legend is great because we all need heros. So give us stories and hero’s we can relate to. Who’s worlds aren’t prisons. 
> 
> Look to Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, hell even The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe for stories that give us the awesome knights we love but characters we care about and relate to. I’m so tired of films that don’t give us actual historical accuracy but pretend they do so they can give us what they think ‘audiences want’. I don’t give a shit about big burly dudes hitting each other with swords. I care when characters I love are big burly dudes hitting each other with swords.


End file.
